Musing Around Wyoming

Bunnicide

So I made the northern trek to Gillette early (for me) Saturday morning, and things haven't changed. As usual, I got stuck behind a tanker truck that refused to top 40 miles an hour, on a good, long stretch of unpassable road (made longer by the fact that he was only driving 40 miles an hour ...), and Highway 59 is still the Bunny Suicide Trail, aka the Fur-Lined Highway. I cannot believe how many dead bunnies are lining the road, making up a sick sort of speedbump obstacle course.

Here Comes the Bride

Kristie's bridal shower was great; her future-mother-in-law went all-out and had a fabulous party, complete with good memories, some embarassing gifts, and the opportunity to finally put some faces to the names I've been hearing for a while now. And I'd forgotten how absolutely gorgeous that part of Wyoming is. Geoff's dad's house in Newcastle has a deck that overlooks some pretty breath-taking scenery, and it was a beautiful evening to be looking over the Wyoming part of the Black Hills. Those Newcastle folks are pretty lucky ...

Oy ...

Considering my mood Friday night, "random" equalled "irony" on my iPod shuffle, with lyrics aplenty to support a blue funk (The Postal Service, Anna Nallik, Breaking Benjamin and U2, to name a few). The irony would have been something good to laugh over, except that I wanted to cry, and those are pretty good tracks to have a pity party to.

The folks

It's always good to see my parents; and hang time with my mom has been especially appreciated in the past few months. She's got counsel and commisseration aplenty to offer. And it's just always good to see my dad ... who kindly woke me up at 5:15 this morning to make sure I'd get ready and on the road in time. But boy, am I tired ... it's still dark at 5:15 in the morning, and if it's still dark, my logic tells me that I should still be asleep ...

Put-Put with Chris

I attempted that great athletic fete of put-put golf with Chris again, and I'm happy to report that I did NOT send any golf balls sailing across the room this time. I DID get a hole-in-one, and I DID put-put right into a stream of water, and we had to wait for the ball to float its way down to the next green ... no small children were injured during this athletic outing.

Onward and Upward

It was a gorgeous day to be heading back to 7200 feet, with some really pretty, poetic-ish fog outside of Gillette and then blue skies, warm weather, sweet air and singing birds the rest of the way. No crows. Sadly, in Laramie, I spotted the first squirrel fatality of the spring. Poor squirrel. He'll be the first of many, but still -- to be the first to bite it. And now it's back to the grind. Literally, I think. Coffee is definitely in order.